Of the Fate of Narsil and the New Age of Men
by Lea of Mirkwood
Summary: The passing of Narsil after the death of Elessar.


Title: Of the Fate of Narsil and the New Age of Men  
  
Author: Lea of Mirkwood  
  
Rating: PG, because G is the kiss of death for a fic.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Explanation: Tolkien said he was making a history for England, didn't he? I'm just taking that a step further.  
  
  
  
With the passing of the King Elessar, the sword Narsil, newly deemed Andúril, was then handed down to Elessar's son, Eldarion. Eldarion, after his mother's death, took the throne of Gondor. He was the symbol of a new age, one that belonged more to the men. He had a long life, and for the poor of Gondor who had not known that their queen was one of the Fair Folk, it seemed that he had been sent by the Valar as their savior. In later years he seemed to be almost a god-like figure in his subject's eyes. The Telcontari flourished. The strain of Elvish blood in them made them strong, with longer lives. More and more Elves crossed the sea, until there were few left in Middle-Earth. They were now only a legend, passed on to children late at night as a bedtime story. Soon only a few colonies of Elves remained in what was once the grand realm of Eryn Lasgalen, the Silvan elves, descended mostly from the family and subjects of the Wood- Elf, Prince Legolas of Eryn Lasgalen. Eldarion was wed, after many years, to a mortal woman, Aldarida. And they had a son, Avarmelion, who took Eldarion's place as King when Eldarion was killed in battle. When Eldarion died, Avarmelion was surprised by the visit of an old man, claiming his name was Olórin, came to seek counsel. The old man took from Avarmelion his father's sword, and left.  
  
Many years passed. The Elven blood had been almost diluted to nothing, simply making the descendents of Elessar fairer than others. There was not even a legend of the time of the Elves and the War of the Ring. All that had been worked for was lost. The idea of the Valar faded, and made way for a simpler belief, one of goodness and purity.  
  
King Alcroth of the Dragon ruled what had once been Gondor. He was the wisest and fairest ruler in long years, keeping his people safe from the darkness across the mountains. From far away, something awakened. Soon came and old man, all in white, bearing a great sword. He handed it to Alcroth.  
  
"Lord, I have had many names. The one that would fit this time and age I shall not tell you yet. But you are the very king. There have been many to wear the crown of Gondor, but not all were kings. You are a king. This sword belonged to your sire many centuries back. It was taken from your family when the purity of the Telcontari began to waver. And now, I return it to you, as Elessar would see fit."  
  
Alcroth withdrew the sword from the scabbard and looked at it in amazement. It shone like the stars.  
  
"Where on earth did you find this? And what is Gondor? The Telcontari? I have never heard such things!"  
  
An faint expression of pain crossed the old man's face.  
  
"Some things," he murmured, "should never have been lost."  
  
Alcroth stared. "Who are you, venerable one?"  
  
"My name, as you might say now," said the old man, with a smile tugging at his mouth, "is Merlin."  
  
Uther, son of Alcroth, swung Narsil over his head and flung it into the depths of the lake before him. A graceful hand rose up from the depths and caught it, brandishing it three times. He looked at the rock in front of him, and that was when the light from the setting sun glinted off of the blood on his armor and the beads of sweat on his forehead. He gasped for breath.  
  
"I...Uther, king of Britain...and bearer of the Dragon...hereby say that whomever shall have this sword that I here abandoned shall be king."  
  
He slumped over in the reeds by the shore of the lake.  
  
"Here Arthur. See this lake? Call. Say this." An old man said to a willowy youth, and then spoke in a melodic language.  
  
"Yes Merlin," and the golden youth and repeated the musical words. A hand rose from the lake holding a sword, the sword that cut the Ring from Sauron's hand. The maiden under the water spoke in a lilting voice, the same language that Merlin had just spoken.  
  
"Merlin? What did she say, Merlin?"  
  
"She said that its name is Excalibur. And that you are king."  
  
Merlin smiled at the youth before him. The Golden Age of Men had come. 


End file.
